


Little Bits

by FestiveFerret, SirSapling



Series: Papa Don't Preach [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Age Regression/De-Aging, Babies, Domestic Fluff, Ducks, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14062380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSapling/pseuds/SirSapling
Summary: Extra moments from the Papa Don't Preach series.





	1. Baby Tony's First Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will be a separate ficlet from a different time in the PDP timeline, including additional moments from In Trouble Deep and beyond. We'll keep the tags simple, but any additional warnings or notes will go in the chapter summaries or A/Ns. These will, like Trouble, be 80% fluff with the occasional addition of feelings, which we will warn for. 
> 
> If you're not reading/have read Trouble, these probably won't make much sense. We'll keep these major spoiler-free until Trouble is done.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Arc One of In Trouble Deep - Steve takes Baby Tony to the park and they make a new friend.

Steve dug the tiny plastic shovel into the sand and frowned when the handle bent under the weight. It was a bit damp out still, probably too damp to be playing with Tony’s gardening tools, but after three days of summer storms, Steve had seized the first moment where it wasn’t actively raining to get Tony outside.

The grass was cool and damp, and the sky was filled with dark clouds, but no drips landed on Steve’s upturned face, so they stayed out. Tony needed fresh air, and both of them were suffering from a bit of cabin fever after so long. Despite the ominous weather, Tony was enjoying himself, smacking his plastic trowel against the sand and then waving it in the vague vicinity of his bucket. He wasn’t making much progress - Steve assumed, he wasn’t actually sure what Tony was trying to accomplish - but he was smiling and babbling softly, so Steve was happy.

Tony said “affff” solemnly, then rattled his trowel around inside his bucket while Steve continued to dig halfheartedly in the damp sand. Tony’s trowel lifted, then froze, and Tony made a noise not entirely dissimilar from the one last week’s mugger had made when he’d turned around and found himself face-to-face with Captain America.

Tony’s eyes popped wide, and his mouth fell open. Steve followed his line of sight. About fifteen feet away, a young man - maybe 17 or 18 - was walking across the park, earphones in, glued to his phone, with a leash looped over his arm. His free hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jacket, and he nodded his head along with his music while he walked. He had the floppy, unkempt hair teens seemed to wear these days, and his pants were distressingly baggy. And he was slouching.

But at the end of the leash that draped casually over his arm was a dog. The dog was about knee-high, trotting along at her owner’s heel with a wide, tongue-lolling smile. She was a cloud of golden-brown fluff, culminating in a wide ruff around her neck, so plush that her collar wasn’t visible, the leash simply disappearing into the fur somewhere behind her fuzz-covered, tip-tilted triangle ears.

Steve realized with a soft smile that Tony had never seen a dog like that before, at least not in the time Steve had been caring for him. There was a woman in Steve’s building with a tiny, short-haired thing she carried around in her purse, and once in a while they’d passed one on a leash while Tony was curled up in Steve’s arms, but this dog was close by, and at Tony’s eye-level, and Tony was clearly smitten. Steve could practically see little hearts popping above Tony’s head as he lifted one sand-covered hand and pointed towards the dog.

Steve hesitated, but as the boy curved closer to the playground, he called out, “Hey,” before he could stop himself. The boy startled, pulled one earphone out and peered over towards Steve, then his mouth fell open, eyes going wide in an amusing reflection of Tony’s expression, his gaze fixed on Steve.

He tugged the other earphone out too hard and winced, stuttering to a stop. His dog stopped too, gazing up at him adoringly. “Hi… Sir,” he said. And Steve gave up on there being any chance he hadn’t just been recognized. Teens these days only called him Sir if they’d played with his action figures as kids.

“Sorry to bother you, but would you mind if my, um, nephew met your dog? If she’s friendly.” He put careful emphasis on “nephew” that made it clear that there weren’t to be any questions raised on that topic.

But the boy brightened and nodded, then bent and unclipped the leash from the dog’s collar who immediately took off towards them. Steve tensed, not wanting the dog to get too excited and barrel Tony over, but she skidded to a stop right in front of the startled toddler and collapsed onto the ground about a foot away. She dropped her head onto her paws, stretched out as close to Tony as she could get without actively touching him and gave a soft sigh, her puff of a tail swinging back and forth violently. “She loves kids,” the boy said, appearing at Steve’s side. “She’s super gentle.”

And she was. With a little encouragement, Tony reached out and placed his hand on top of the dog’s head. Steve pet her too, trying to show him the best way to do it, and the dog’s tail swished impossibly faster. Her tongue popped out then sucked in again, and she whined softly, wriggling closer to Tony’s knees. Tony screeched, and Steve winced, but it was followed by a cascade of wild, giggly laughter. His joy only drew the dog closer until her head was practically in his lap. He ruffled his fingers through her hair then tugged on her ears.

“Tony, gentle,” Steve chastised, shooting the boy an apologetic look. But he shook his head.

“It’s fine. She’s just happy to be touched, honestly.”

With Tony and the dog getting along swimmingly, Steve pushed up to his feet and offered the kid his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“Mike. Mike Lampton.” The boy shook his hand then wiped his palm on his pants nervously. “It’s awesome to meet you, Captain. Uh, Sir.”

“Thanks for letting him play with her.” Steve looked down, and the dog had rolled onto her back, her feet hanging limply in the air while Tony cackled wildly and grabbed at her jowls. “Hey, Mike? I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself that I’m watching my nephew. I wouldn't want to draw any unwanted attention.” He gave Mike a stern look.

“Oh, totally. Of course. Won’t say a word.”

Tony shoved both hands in the dog’s mouth, and Steve winced again, flinching towards them; he was ready for Tony’s hands to reappear less a few fingers. But the dog just rolled back onto her side and licked at the knees of Tony’s pants, letting him grab at her tongue and play with her lips. “She’s so good to him.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a lot of younger siblings, so she’s used to kids. She’s such an attention hog.” He rolled his eyes, but Steve could hear the affection curling through his words.

Steve crouched down in front of Tony again who reached for him, a huge grin plastered across his face. Steve tugged him into his lap and held him on one knee while they petted the dog again. She sprung to her feet and shoved her face into Tony’s stomach making him screech with laughter and fist a handful of her fur in each hand.

In the end, the boy had to grab the dog’s collar and drag her back while she whined and lunged for Tony and Steve. He scolded her gently, and she stopped pulling, trailing along at his heel as he walked away, though she kept shooting looks back at them. Steve hadn’t known that dogs were capable of pouting.

And Tony was pouting too.

Steve picked him up, then tossed all his toys back in the bucket and hooked that over his finger. He started back to the apartment. “You liked the dog, huh?”

“Noooo,” Tony whined. “Tog. Hi.”

“Wow, that much? Really?”

“Tee,” Tony said, shooting him a look.

Steve shifted him in his arms, chuckling at Tony’s put-out expression. Steve wasn’t exactly a dog person, but he wasn’t _not_ a dog person, and he had to admit, it was pretty amazing watching Tony enjoy that so much. He also hadn’t known you could get dogs that small that weren’t quite as… pocket-y as the purse-bound dog in the building. Steve shook himself. It would be stupid to think about getting a pet for a kid that wasn’t really a kid. Tony wouldn’t be a baby long enough for it to matter.

Steve’s arms tightened around Tony’s back, and the baby sighed and tipped his chin onto Steve’s shoulder. “We can go back to the park tomorrow. Maybe we’ll see Mike and his dog again, huh?”

“Tog,” Tony whispered into Steve’s lapel, and Steve smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [See the art on tumblr here!](http://sirsapling.tumblr.com/post/172218611558/steve-tugged-him-into-his-lap-and-held-him-on-one)


	2. The Glasses Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - SPOILERS FOR "IN TROUBLE DEEP" THROUGH CHAPTER 15.
> 
> Set during Arc Three of "In Trouble Deep" - It's Tony's first day alone with Anthony since they moved in with Steve, and he's pretty sure he's got this.

“Okay,” Tony said, surveying his kingdom. “We can do this.” He shifted Anthony on his hip and turned to look into his familiar blue eyes. “Steve is at work and we are here alone together for the first time, but I’m a genius - very brilliant and accomplished - and you’re a bratty, little bug, so I think we’ve got this.”

Ant said nothing, but his binky moved faster as he considered Tony. 

“Don’t suggest otherwise. You are definitely a brat. You know how I know that?”

Ant’s eyebrows went up at the question inflection.

“Because I was absolutely a brat at your age - and forever thereafter - and you are me.” He tapped Ant on the end of his nose and bit back a laugh when the baby’s eyes crossed trying to track his finger’s movement. “So what do you want to do?”

Ant said nothing, but he reached out randomly and waved his arm around. Then he settled it on Tony’s cheek. The binky popped out. “Tee.”

Tony’s heart clenched as he pushed the binky back in. Shit, this was what he was afraid of. How could they get through an entire day without Steve, when Steve was all Ant ever wanted? That was why they had moved here in the first place, because Tony had no idea how to do this parenting thing and Steve was shockingly good at it. And surprisingly invested.

Tony wandered around the apartment, free to really explore for the first time. Ant stayed settled in his arms, even though Tony still hadn’t produced his “Tee.” 

“Wanna see what he keeps in his underwear drawer?” Tony asked, waggling his eyebrows at Ant, but Ant just sucked more furiously on his binky. “Yeah, okay, that might not be baby-friendly, who knows?”

He crouched down and flicked through the vinyl records. It was a good collection, but when Ant saw them moving he reached out and made grabby hands towards them. “You want to listen to Bing?” Tony asked.

“In!” Ant said around his binky.

Tony took that for a yes, and set the record on the player and started it going. The crackles and pops were nice, reminding him of the softer parts of his childhood. And Ant clearly loved it, bouncing eagerly in Tony’s arms.

Tony set him down and shuffled after him as he powered around the apartment on all fours. Steve had told him where all the nearby parks were, but Tony found himself nervous about taking Ant outside on his own. The weather was fine - they could go - but that would mean packing things up and adhering to the strict schedule Steve had laid out. Tony had heard the horror stories; he wasn’t going to be missing Ant’s naps on his first day solo.

How people managed to do this entirely on their own, Tony had no idea. He made a mental note to make some sort of donation to support for single parents. Even with Steve filling whatever role it was that Steve was filling - he couldn't look at  _ that  _ too closely right now - this was still unbelievably hard. 

Though, most people didn’t start out with a nine-month-old, he supposed. And most people weren’t facing off with a clone of themselves. That should probably have made it easier, but instead, it made Tony feel like he  _ should  _ know what Anthony wanted at all times, when mostly he was just clueless.

But Steve would be at SHIELD all day, prior to getting two entire weeks off, and Tony was determined not to call him. 

Tony sunk down to the floor, and Ant took one last turn around the couch then crawled into Tony’s lap, waving his arms about. Tony lifted him up the way Steve did, then groaned. “Holy cow, you’re hefty. I’m sorry, that’s a supersoldier-only game.” He settled Ant back in his lap then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his nose, grinning when Any broke into screeching giggles.

Nose kisses kept them occupied for the next ten minutes, then Ant squirmed around and slid flat on his back in Tony’s lap, feet kicking. Tony grabbed one in each hand. He wiggled them back and forth to the beat of the music, singing along softly. Ant giggled around his binky and kicked along with Tony’s movements, howling with laughter when Tony did two beats on one foot before falling back into a rhythm. 

“At least you’re easy to amuse.” Tony did two beats again and grinned at the eager response. “I tried this with Jennifer Aniston once, and she didn’t think it was nearly as funny.”

They continued to play, eventually rolling onto their stomachs - despite Tony’s protesting back - and hauling out Ant’s tub of toys. When Ant’s first nap approached, Tony was desperate to do it right, and Steve had suggested starting quiet time well in advance so he’d sleep more easily. Tony wound down the play, eventually tucking Ant against the couch with the Cap sleeper in hand, while Tony acted out a story he had made up - loosely based on the events of a recent merger with Intertech Corp - with Ant’s plastic turtles. Every now and then Ant pointed and made an incomprehensible noise.

Tony wrinkled his nose at him and got the same look back. “Everyone’s a critic.”

Ant’s eyes were drooping, and naptime was only a few minutes away, so Tony scooped him up and walked slow circles around the room, smoothing his hand over Ant’s back. When his breathing slowed and his death grip on Cap lessened, Tony lowered him into the crib, rubbed his tummy until his mouth went slack, stole Cap back, then snuck back out into the living room.

Tony sat in tense silence for five minutes, but all was quiet from the bedroom, and eventually, he let out a sigh of relief. He’d done it. One third of the day down.

He had two hours and a mountain of work to do. He checked his email and beyond the endless stream of work crap, there was one new one from Steve.

_ Don’t want to call and wake him up, but if you get the chance, let me know how it’s going. -Steve _

Tony smiled and picked up his phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s going fine, Cap. Got him down for his nap and everything.” Tony kept his voice low.

“Oh good.” Steve’s relief was palpable.

“You’d better be getting work done instead of sitting there worrying about Ant.”

“I am!” Steve protested. “I was just checking.”

“Thanks, really. I appreciate it. We’re getting by. He misses you though.” 

Steve went silent on the other end of the line, and Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t get it. Why was Steve so resistant to this? Was it the idea of raising a kid with another man? Of raising a kid at all? Was he worried about what this meant for his white, picket future?  In the moment, Tony had never seen anyone who was more of a natural father than Steve was. But for some reason, Steve wasn’t adjusting to it, though he clearly didn't want out. It would all be fine until Tony brought up how much Anthony loved him or needed him, and then Steve would shut right down.

“I’m going to try and get some work done while he sleeps.”

“Okay,” Steve kicked back to life. “Thanks for calling.”

“Bye.” Tony clicked the phone off and leaned back in his desk chair. He really should work his way through the emails, but in the end, he flipped the computer screen off and dug last year's annual report out of his bag. It was 172 pages of absolute nonsense, but at least it was nonsense that was making him money. And he'd need to remind himself of all of this for Thursday's meeting.

It was painfully small print, and Steve didn’t have a printer to print out a larger one, so Tony rummaged around in the outer pockets of his bag until he came up with his glasses case. He settled on Steve’s couch, listened for a moment - but there was nothing - then slipped his glasses on and settled down with his reading.

God, he’d kill for a drink.

He focused on the report. Time fuzzed, and what felt like only a few minutes later, he heard Anthony babbling to himself in the other room. He checked his watch, and sure enough, it was time to wake up. He’d managed about half the report.

He walked into the bedroom and scooped Anthony out of his crib, handing him Duck to hold and bringing him out to the kitchen. He mixed a bottle for him, and Anthony sucked at it quietly, his eyes still heavy. Tony settled back on the couch with Ant tucked into the curve of his arm and rocked him gently while he continued his reading.

A thump drew Tony out of his focus. Ant’s bottle was empty and on the floor, his Duck clutched between his hands instead. He pointed one tiny finger at Tony’s report. “Dah.”

“It’s not a duck, buggy.”

“Ook.”

“It’s actually not a book either, though I can see why you would think that.” He held up the pages so Ant could see there weren’t any pictures, halfway through the section on legal proceedings, but instead of dismissing it, Ant settled deeper in his lap, facing the pages, and looked at it expectantly. “It’s really not - uh, okay.” Tony cleared his throat. “'In April 2001, the parties filed and argued a number of cross-motions for summary judgment related to the issues of the enforceability of the settlement agreement and the exhaustion of policies underlying those of the insurers.'”

Anthony giggled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You like that?” Tony read on, eliciting little giggles and “ooow”s from Anthony every couple of paragraphs. He watched the pages flip over, even though there were still no pictures besides the occasional dense graph, his little fingers rolling Duck’s beak between them. “You’re enjoying this more than me,” Tony said at the end of the next page, twisting around to peer at Anthony’s face.

Ant looked up at him and seemed to notice for the first time that something about Tony’s face was different. His mouth fell open, the binky falling out, and he reached out for Tony’s glasses. They were durable, and Tony had plenty of pairs, so he let Ant’s fingers close around the frames and pull them off his face. 

Ant examined them carefully, turning them over and over in his hands before he tried to shove them on his own face. He poked himself in the eye the first time, and his face screwed up. 

“Oh shit!” Tony grabbed at them then slapped a hand over his mouth. Fuck, he was letting the baby hurt himself and swearing in front of him already, and he’d only been here alone for a few hours. “You okay?”

Ant didn’t seem that bothered, as he tried putting the glasses on again. Tony helped him guide them over his face. They were too wide, and Ant wouldn’t let go of the sides, so they were crooked, but he was instantly enamoured of them, twisting them up and down to watch the world go wiggly.

Tony sat Ant up in his lap, facing the report, and started reading out again, squinting a little at the tiny font. Ant grinned up at him, his glasses hanging from one ear, and Tony bent down and kissed his forehead.

“Da,” Ant said around a giggle, and Tony pulled back and looked at him. That had sounded a little different from usual. 

“You’ve got Duck,” he said, pushing at the toy in Ant’s lap, but he ignored it.

“Da!”

“Are you - is that, ‘Dad?’” Steve called Tony Ant’s dad all the time, maybe it had stuck?

“Da.” Ant wiggled the glasses again, peering up at Tony with smiling blue eyes.

Tony grinned back. Yeah… he stroked his hand over Ant’s tiny, warm head. He could do this.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is by SirSapling - [ tumblr post here!](http://sirsapling.tumblr.com/post/172904102338/tony-sat-ant-up-in-his-lap-facing-the-report-and)


	3. Happy Birthday, Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during early arc two and also shortly post-epi. Celebrating Tony and Anthony's birthdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to soldieress on tumblr for prompting Anthony's birthday. We already had this one planned out, but this one is for you anyway!

**_May 29th, 2004_ **

Steve hovered awkwardly in the kitchen, lighter clutched in his hand. It was silly, wasn't it? Tony wouldn't remember, care, or understand, so why was Steve bothering? Or, if Tony did remember after he was inevitably turned back, Steve would never live down the ridiculousness of this. He turned to rest his hip against the edge of the counter and looked over the kitchen island to see Tony sitting on the living room rug, a block in each hand, chattering quietly to them then pressing them together. 

The dishes from dinner were piled in the sink - Steve would wash them after Tony went to bed - and this was usually a few hours they spent together, playing, reading, sitting side-by-side…

But today wasn't just any day, and Steve found that as much as he tried to talk himself out of it, he couldn't let it pass without note.

He took a plate out of the fridge and a bag from a hook by the door and stepped around the couch to sit on the rug next to Tony. "Hey, bud."

Tony grinned at him and held his blocks up, spewing an impressive litany of random constants, carefully selected to impart some wisdom that Steve sadly couldn't understand. He knocked the blocks together gently, then looked back at Steve as if to say, "See?"

"That's great." Steve smiled, and Tony gurgled a laugh in response, dropping the blocks and holding his hands out towards Steve instead. Steve lifted the baby and settled him in his lap, the plate set carefully on the floor a foot or so away. Tony's eyes narrowed in on it like homing missiles. "I have something for you." Steve cleared his breath. He picked the thin, yellow candle up off the plate, twisting its spiral ridges between his fingers for a moment before sticking it in the icing on top of the single chocolate cupcake perched on the plate.

His arm tightened around Tony when the baby reached for the cake, locking him in place. He dug a lighter out of his pocket and clicked it, holding the flame against the wax-covered wick until it lit.

"I know you're not actually one yet, but it's technically your birthday. Which is too weird to comprehend. And really Tony, I wouldn't even have known if I hadn't see it in your files a couple weeks ago, but I guess I can't hold that against you now. Anyway, kids deserve to have birthdays, even if they come a few months early. So…" Steve gestured stupidly towards the cake. "Yeah."

Tony turned his bright blue eyes on Steve, wide with want, and reached for the cake again, his tiny fists opening and closing imploringly. 

"You want it?"

"No."

"Oh, well, in that case, I guess I'll eat it," Steve said cheekily. He swiped his finger through the low-sugar icing and stuck it between his lips.

Tony's mouth fell open in horror, then twisted into a pout.

"Okay, honey." Steve chuckled. He grabbed the plate and lifted it, bringing it closer. Tony reached for the flame, the light flickering in his wonder-filled eyes, and Steve grabbed his hand just in time to stop him from touching it. "No, no. You have to blow it out first. It hurts. It's hot."

"Ot."

Steve beamed. "Exactly." He leaned in, pursed his lips overdramatically and blew, softly. The flame flickered. Tony's eyes danced between Steve's face and the flame. Steve blew again. Tony reached up with one hand and settled it on Steve's cheek, then slipped it around to cover his mouth. Steve blew again, this time onto Tony's palm.

Tony pursed his mouth awkwardly and blew himself, more spit than air, then giggled maniacally. He reached for the flame again.

"Alright, alright." Steve blew the candle out, watching the wisp of smoke curl away from the wick. The room was filled with the strong smell of melting wax and burnt cotton. The evening light had faded behind the nearby tall buildings while they talked, and with the light of the candle out, the room shrunk to the little bubble they hung in - just Steve and Tony.

Tony reached again, and, this time, Steve set the plate on his legs, within Tony's reach. He plucked the candle out and set it aside - sucking off the icing first - before Tony could form an obsession. Tony stuck his finger in the icing on top of the cupcake, scooped some up then held it out to Steve, looking a combination of excited, unsure, and confused.

"It's food," Steve said. "Well, it's almost food. Eat it." He gently guided Tony's finger towards his mouth.

Tony frowned but opened his mouth obligingly when his finger was close enough to flick out his tongue and taste.

Steve could see the moment when a sugary little lightbulb went off in Tony's mind. He shoved his entire fist in his mouth, widening eyes glued to Steve. Steve laughed, curling his hand around Tony's back. "Careful…"

Tony turned back to the cake and began dismantling it like it was a particularly button-covered remote control. He was ruthless and efficient, but being barely one, he only managed to eat about half of the cupcake before he flagged.

He looked like a chocolate bomb had gone off nearby. Brown streaks marred his once blue onesie, his face was a smeared mess of icing and cake crumbs, and he had a wild look in his eye that Steve was pretty sure meant they were both about to have a pretty unpleasant night. 

But it was worth it.

Before Steve hauled him into the bath - onesie and all - he handed Tony a hastily wrapped package, white paper dotted all over with yellow ducks. 

"Dah," Tony said reverently around a mouthful of cake.

"You know it, honey." Steve started one corner of the paper to show Tony how to unwrap it, then snuck a bite of the remaining cake. It was pretty good, actually.

Tony ripped at the paper haphazardly, and Steve subtly guided his efforts, tugging at the bag inside to will the paper to tear faster. Finally, Tony revealed his present - a bag of three, brightly coloured, plastic turtles. They had flat backs so they stacked nicely, their fins sticking out in a way that appealed to tiny hands and mouths.

"No…" Tony gasped, reaching for the toys.

Steve grabbed the bag and popped it open. "Let's take these to the bath, alright, kiddo?"

Tony nodded, but his focus was entirely on the turtles. Steve lifted everything up - plate, Tony, turtles, and left the plate with its dismantled cupcake on the couch to cart Tony and his new toys into the bathroom. 

While Tony splashed and played, alternating between smashing his turtles together and walking them across the tile wall, Steve folded his arms over the side of the tub and rested his head on them, watching. Tony tossed two turtles in the air and howled like a loon when they fell back down into the water. He turned, grinning, and caught Steve watching him.

"Tee!" he exclaimed, pointing at the place where the turtles had disappeared under the bubbles. When Steve didn't reply with anything more than a smile, Tony set two, wet, soapy hands on Steve's cheeks and leaned over until their foreheads touched. Steve tipped his chin up to kiss the end of Tony's nose. 

"Happy birthday, honey."

 

####  _**October 16th, 2004** _

Steve frowned at his caller ID before flicking the phone open and tucking it under his chin. "Tony?" He turned his furious gaze back to the prone man at his feet.

"Hey, babe," Tony's voice came through the phone. "So, don't kill me, but I might have moved everything to the townhouse after all."

_ "Tony,"  _ Steve growled. The man at his feet cowered back against the wall, both hands wrapped around his bleeding knee.

"I know you wanted to keep it small, but you know me. I couldn't control myself. Besides, it's still not that big - I didn't invite anyone else. But all our stuff is half-packed and spread all over the apartment, and we're going to be dodging boxes all night just trying to get cake in everyone."

"We had agreed on small and at the apartment." Steve tried not to sound like he was whining.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's still small, I swear." There was a long pause. "I know this is important to you."

Steve sighed. He shifted the phone up so it was better wedged between his shoulder and his ear. "It's okay. I'm not -" he slammed his foot down on the man's bleeding knee, making him scream and writhe "- that bothered. I just didn't want it to be a production. As long as it's just friends and family, I don't care where it is."

"Okay. You sure? I can still move it all back. The wonders of being disgustingly rich."

Steve shifted up until he was squarely in the man's space then crouched down. The broken man was whimpering now. "I'm sure. Gotta go. Work."

"Alright. Good luck. Love you."

"Love you too." Steve clicked the phone off and tucked it back in his belt. His cool gaze met the man's terrified one. "So," he started, "as you can probably tell, I have somewhere to be. So you're going to tell me where the bombs are without anymore pointless time-wasting and then you get to keep your leg and I get to go home to my very important date. Deal?"

**

His apartment felt unpleasantly empty with no Tony and no Anthony when Steve returned home. He tossed his go bag in the corner and pushed past the maze of boxes into the bedroom to change his clothes. He'd showered at the Trisk, but all he'd had on him was a t-shirt and jeans and this occasion called for a little pomp. 

Steve pulled out a button-down and a nice pair of khakis and headed back into the kitchen. He went to grab a snack but found a note from Tony instead:

_ Please bring the cake? It's in the fridge. -T xoxo _

He set the cake on the counter so he wouldn't forget it then flipped through his emails while he changed, a banana shoved in his mouth. He called a cab and made his way over to Tony's old place, nerves flitting around in his stomach unpleasantly. He hadn't felt this anxious since he'd finally found the guts to admit to himself he wanted to kiss and hold and love the man who had been sleeping beside him for weeks. There was no reason to be nervous, but he was.

He flicked open his phone and dialled the number he always dialled when the world was a bit too much. 

"Hey, darling." Tony picked up right away.

"Hey, Tony. I'm on my way."

"You get my note?"

"Yup. I have the cake." Steve shifted the plastic case on his lap.

"Perfect. He's going to be so happy to see you. Eight days is too long."

"Agreed."

There was a noise like a gunshot, and Steve startled up in his seat. "Tony?!"

"It's okay, love, it's -  _ no, not there! -  _ it's a balloon. Hurry up! I'll see you soon." Tony disconnected, and Steve was left staring at his phone. 

He was still on edge from his mission, and he had to let that go. It was always hard, shifting out of Captain America and back into one of the legs of their little tripod family. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried not to think about blood. He was going to be walking right into a gang of happy, laughing, friendly people; he wouldn't even get a minute alone with Tony first and that was -

But as if he'd read Steve's mind, there was Tony, leaning - elegant-casual - against the doorframe of his house, hands tucked in his pocket, soft smirk crinkling the corners of his eyes. Steve all but barreled out of the cab. He threw a handful of bills on the passenger seat - a terrible habit he'd picked up from Tony - then jogged across the gravel drive to gather Tony in his arms, the cake clutched awkwardly in one hand.

"Mmm," Tony purred against his neck, and the battle, the chase, the dark rooms, the blood, all faded away to nothing but dust. "If you drop that, there'll be hell to pay."

Steve snorted. "I'm Captain America, I can carry a cake." He pulled back from the hug and tipped in for a kiss, but Tony caught his face between his hands. He met Steve's gaze - fierce and searching - for a moment then nodded, more to himself than to Steve, and let Steve draw him in for a kiss.

When he'd been thoroughly kissed, Tony locked their fingers together and led Steve down the hall and into the living room. True to his word, Tony hadn't expanded the guest list, and Steve smiled with relief at the gathered crowd. Jan and Clint were sitting on the floor with Anthony. Thor was perched on a chair nearby, talking to Gail - who had a hint of stars in her eyes - and Bucky was chatting up the mother of the one kid Anthony had bonded with at his library story circle. 

There were snacks and drinks dotted around the room, but Steve still saw the interest flickering in everyone's eyes when the cake appeared. Tony bustled it away towards the kitchen in the arms of a young server in a smart white shirt.

Anthony chose that moment to turn and set his eyes on Steve. For a heart-stopping moment, Steve worried that Anthony would be scared to see him or wouldn't remember him at all - even though he'd been gone this long before; it scared him every time.

But the toddler lit up with excitement so palpable it radiated off him in wiggly little waves. "Tee!!" he screamed, waving his arms in the air and attempting to push to his feet. The excitement was too much, however, and his own momentum took him back onto his butt again. Undeterred, he flipped onto his front and power-crawled across the plush rug to arrive at Steve's feet. He took two handfuls of Steve's pants and hauled himself up again so Steve could reach down and hook under his arms, lifting him up and pressing endless kisses to his face.

Anthony giggled and squirmed, holding Steve's face between his tiny hands. Steve eventually buried his face in Anthony's chest and breathed in deeply -  _ home.  _

Tony's hand landed on the middle of his back, a gentle reminder that they weren't alone, and Steve shifted Anthony onto his hip with one last kiss before the overwhelming emotion had both the supersoldier and the baby bawling all over each other. 

"Wow, are all these people here for you, bud?" he asked.

Anthony didn't seem sure, but he said, "ah," anyway, then leaned back towards Jan and Clint and the toys they'd been playing with. Steve walked him over and set him down, greeting the guests.

The next hour passed pleasantly in a blur of canapes, punch, and light chatting. Everyone took pictures of Anthony and his fellow toddler pal as they played together with a little toy xylophone and Anthony's favourite turtles.

Once the babies seemed to be losing interest, Tony instructed Steve to haul a stack of presents out of the side room, and they let the kids open them together. Jan had bought Anthony a bunch of clothes, most of which seemed to have animal ears of some kind on them, and Anthony inspected them carefully then set them aside without much interest. Clint's present was better received: a set of plastic cooking utensils, complete with a pan, a pot, and plastic food to cook in them. Anthony tucked into those with obvious delight, and it was a while before they were able to draw his attention back to the other presents. 

By then, Anthony's friend, Jake, had already unwrapped two other presents and a pile of wrapping paper was threatening to obscure the babies. After a few more - and barely a dent made because despite Steve's repeated warnings Tony had thrown all caution to the wind and, it seemed, an entire bank account at the local Baby Barn - both children gave up on unwrapping. 

Tony and Steve unwrapped the rest of the presents, holding them out to him perfunctorily, then thanking the gifter when Anthony merely smacked his new spatula against a pot full of fake vegetables in response.

With the paper mostly cleared up, Tony snapped his fingers and the cake appeared, one large glowing candle in the centre, white, in the shape of a number "1" with the edges picked out in blue. The cake was a Captain America one, which still made Steve blush even though he'd been staring at it the whole cab ride over. 

The gang sang "Happy Birthday" then laughed about the fancy red, white, and blue icing, but Anthony only had eyes for the candle. They sat around the table, and Tony graciously let Steve hold their child in his lap, the cake in front of them. Steve watched him eye the candle with obvious wonder. 

Tony shuffled the cake closer, trying to show him how to blow it out, but Anthony reached a hand out towards the flame. Both dads jerked towards him, but he wasn't trying to touch it. He stopped a few inches away, one tiny finger pointed towards the flickering light. 

"Ot."

Steve's heart twisted violently in his chest and tried to crawl painfully up his throat. He tried to speak, but he couldn't, and Tony, catching his eye, dove in to his rescue. "Yeah, sweetie. It's hot. Good job. Do you know how to blow it out?" He pursed his lips and demonstrated, keeping the cake a safe distance away.

When Anthony blew, Tony did too, and the candle flickered out. Everyone clapped and cheered and Anthony startled up, peering around at them in surprise. 

This cake was much fancier than any cake Steve had eaten before, the childish icing hiding perfect layers of moist vanilla and chocolate cake with heavy, creamy icing between them. Anthony picked his piece apart with obvious pleasure, only pausing in his onslaught to politely offer bites to Steve and Tony. 

It wasn't long after that their guests started to excuse themselves and file out, and an hour later, the house was empty, save for Steve and Tony. The few servers Tony had hired had packed up the rest of the food and tucked it into the fridge, leaving the cake out on the table. 

Steve started gathering up the discarded wrapping paper, but a hand slipped around his arm, and he turned to see Tony holding a half-asleep Anthony against his chest. Tony tucked up into Steve's space, pressing into the place under his arm that was reserved solely for the two of them. Steve kissed first Anthony then Tony, holding his lips against Tony's forehead, breathing him in. 

"He's one," Tony said, sounding awed. "We did it. We got him to the first milestone and we haven't even dropped him down the stairs or forgotten him at the grocery store."

"Maybe _ you  _ haven't," Steve said lightly, and Tony's gaze snapped up to his then softened when he realized he was being mocked. Tony pinched him in the side, and his eyes twinkled when that just made Steve shift further into Tony's chest.

"I'll put him to bed. He's wrecked. We can stay here tonight and head home in the morning."

"Alright." There was every chance Anthony would be up again in an hour, angry about not being at home, but in the months since they'd first settled into a trio, he'd relaxed a lot about being away from home and had slept easily both here and at Bucky and Gail's multiple times. 

Tony stole another kiss then disappeared up the stairs. He wasn't gone long - probably traded a bath for a wipe down - and when he returned, Steve was sitting at the table digging a fork into the remains of the cake.

Tony snorted. "You look like your high school boyfriend just dumped you." Tony crossed the room and sat himself down in Steve's lap without hesitation.

Steve ignored the mocking, instead bringing the fork up to Tony's lips. Tony slid the cake off the fork with a hum of pleasure, and Steve gave him a sticky, icing-covered kiss. 

"We really did do it," Tony said, softer, more serious.

"I know." The twisty, writhing things happening in Steve's chest were almost too much to bear. "He's really growing, Tony. He can walk, and he's learned so many words, and he's so smart - just like you - and I can't believe this is all real. Sometimes it doesn't feel real."

Tony stood without a word, pulling Steve to his feet after him. He tucked the cake in the fridge on top of all the tupperware containers full of food, Steve's fork still stuck in the side, then dragged Steve upstairs. He led the way into Anthony's bedroom and stopped beside the crib, fingers wound through Steve's. He leaned heavily into Steve's side, eyes fixed on the sleeping form inside. Anthony's chest rose and fell softly, warm and cozy in his new, sized-up, Iron Man sleeper, Cap clutched in one fist. Tony eased Cap out and set it on top of the dresser nearby. 

"It's real," was all he said. 

Steve bent over and pressed the lightest of kisses to Anthony's forehead, the warmth of Anthony's soft breath ruffling his hair. "Happy Birthday, honey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ults Tony doesn't seem to have a canon bday so we went with his MCU bday. For Ant's bday, Steve and Tony used the doctor's judgment and picked a date they liked. Since he was frozen in time for four months, and then came back randomly as an eight/nine-month-old, there was no way to be sure, but it wouldn't be the same birthday as Tony's.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. A Sick Duckling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-epilogue of In Trouble Deep. 
> 
> Anthony's not feeling so hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to tumblr user aanioru who wanted to see sick Anthony. We had this one planned before prompts as well, so hopefully, it's still what you were looking for. This one's for you! <3
> 
> We also wanted to thank all of our amazing Trouble readers! Trouble hit 1700 kudos today :D We're so grateful for your love for this verse. We can't tell you how pleased we are!! <3

“Play group was a bad choice!” Tony sung in an overly cheerful tone. He bounced Ant gently on his chest as he walked in circles around the couch. “All those kids with all those lovely germs. What a wonderful time we had!” He spun around the end and bounced back across the room in the other direction. 

Ant’s quiet sobbing didn’t abate, but it was still softer than when Tony had tried to set him down in his crib, so he’d take whatever relief he could get. Tony tipped his cheek against the top of Ant’s head and cringed at the heat radiating off of it.

“Poor peanut,” he soothed, stroking his hand over his back. “Papa will be back soon, my little duck, and we’ll get some medicine in you.”

“Daaa-ah-ah-ah,” Ant wailed, twisting his fist even tighter in the sleeve of Tony’s sweater. 

“I don’t know if that was Dad or Duck, but you’ve got both of them,  _ patatina,  _ so I don’t know what you’re crying about.”

“Ah.” Ant sniffled, burying his face in Duck’s soft head.

“I know. Being sick sucks. But at least you get to take the day off work and watch soaps with your Papa.” There was a click in the lock, and Tony heaved a sigh of relief.  _ “Steve.”  _

“How’s he doing?” Steve tossed the shopping bag up on the kitchen table to wrestle off his jacket then pawed through it. “He hates the banana flavoured stuff so I got bubblegum instead but I think he’s going to hate that too. Is it weird that I think the medicine tastes more like a banana than real bananas do?”

“No, that’s not weird, bananas have changed in the last century, but what is weird is that you tasted the baby medici- Anthony.” Steve had stepped up next to Tony to take the whimpering, squirming Ant in his arms, but when he went to lift him away, the hand fisted in Tony’s sleeve didn’t slack. Steve tried to let go, leave him with Tony, even though he usually wanted Steve most when he wasn't feeling well, but Ant’s other hand had released Duck and was now wrapped just as tightly in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. 

Ant wailed between them. 

“I -” Steve stared at Tony cluelessly.

“Alright, shuffle, soldier.” Tony shoved at Steve until he was close enough to grab the bottle of medicine, then dragged him back to the couch. Tony shoved Steve down, prying Ant’s hand off his shirt with a wince, then immediately settled in his lap, with Anthony in his. He leaned Ant against Steve’s chest so he was sitting curled up on Tony, but with a full face of Steve’s comforting warmth. Tony burrowed deeper and flicked his eyes up to catch the slight flush on Steve’s cheeks. Even after months, he still reacted so beautifully to affection from Tony. Tony hooked the hand that wasn't supporting Ant’s back around Steve’s waist and found a little patch of skin under the hem of his shirt. Steve wrapped both arms around them and pressed a kiss to the top of Ant’s head. Ant was calming already, his sobs hitching and breaking in the way they did before he cried himself to sleep. Tony hated that he knew what that sounded like.

Steve managed to get the medicine in, which appeared to be no more appreciated in bubblegum flavour than it had been in banana, then popped a binky in after, and Ant started to slump. He’d missed one nap already - it was inevitable, really. Tony shuffled closer in Steve’s arms, stroking two fingers of one hand along Steve’s hip and rubbing slow, soothing circles on Ant’s overheated back with the other.

“We’re never going to play group again,” Tony groaned.

Steve chuckled, then brushed his nose across Tony’s temple, making Tony look up in mild surprise. “He’s got to meet other kids, Tony.”

“I’ll build him some. Germ-free.”

Steve just laughed again and looked back up to flick the TV on, sound low.

“What are we watching?” Steve didn’t answer. Tony turned his head and groaned. “Y&R?”

“Anthony likes it,” Steve replied, eyes not leaving the screen. A cheeky smile teased the edges of his lips.

“Anthony is  _ sleeping.”  _

“You will be too, soon.”

“No, I won’t. I might close my eyes to do some very important thinking. Because my boyfriend -” Tony didn’t miss the slight brightening of Steve’s eyes at the word “- watches very boring television and won’t let me change the channel.”

“Okay, yeah. You do that.” Steve’s arm tightened around Tony’s back, drawing him closer. He pressed another kiss to the top of Anthony’s head, breathing him in.

“I will do that,” Tony huffed. He shifted down and rested all his weight against Steve’s chest. One of his feet hung off the edge of the couch but he couldn’t find the energy to lift it up again. “Very important thinking…”

**

Ant was better two days later, finally going down to sleep in his crib at night, with even breathing and pink, healthy skin. Tony collapsed into bed beside Steve, not able to summon enough energy to make a pass at him, which was unusual. You have the peak of human perfection sleeping in nothing but boxers beside you, you make the most of it.

But when Tony woke, he realized why. His throat was dry and scratchy, his eyes felt glued shut, and all of the muscles in his body were complaining in a rippling pattern across his skin. The blankets were sandpaper instead of extraordinarily expensive Egyptian cotton, all of a sudden, and the room had dropped to sub-Arctic temperatures.

With an embarrassingly familiar whine, Tony rolled over and plastered himself against Steve. 

“Oh god, Tony, you’re three hundred degrees.” Steve’s hand landed on Tony’s forehead. “Anthony must have given you his bug.”

“Excellent deduction,” Tony whined. “I can see why they pay you the big bucks.”

Steve gave a sympathetic chuckle. “They pay you more.” He pressed his lips softly to Tony’s forehead, and Tony sighed with relief. “Well, at least you can’t give it to Anthony.”

After much begging, Tony finally released Steve to climb out of bed. He flicked the covers up over his head and dozed off, drowning out the sounds of breakfast and Steve shifting things around. He woke to gentle fingers carding through his hair.

Steve had soup, Anthony, an extra blanket, books, crayons, Duck, and the remote for the TV, which he’d somehow managed to move into the bedroom without waking Tony. Tony sat up and let Steve fuss him into a nest of pillows and blankets, with Ant tucked happily against his side, thumb in mouth. Tony ate his soup, letting Anthony pick out all the carrot squares once it had cooled enough, while Steve grabbed his work reports and settled in on the other side of the bed.

When another wave of headache rippled over Tony’s temples, he dropped his head to Steve’s shoulder. “We are  _ never  _ taking him to play group again,” Tony repeated.

“Ay-oop!” Ant yelled excitedly, waving his hands up and smacking Tony in the chest, setting loose a coughing fit. “Ay-oop, ay--oop. Dahday?”

Steve barely held back his laughter as he rubbed his hand up Tony’s side. “No, not today, Duckling. When Dad’s feeling better.”

_ “Never,”  _ Tony hissed into Steve’s shoulder.


	5. The Sleepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the very end of chapter 14 of In Trouble Deep. Tony sees the Ultimates-themed baby sleepers for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had a couple people ask for Tony's reaction to the Iron Man sleeper so here it is! Thanks to everyone who suggested it <3 
> 
> A reminder to send prompts to our ask boxes on tumblr. We're still accepting them, but it's much easier if you send them there instead of putting them in comments. If you comment your prompt, it'll probably get lost, sorry :( 
> 
> See baby!Tony/Ant in the Iron Man sleeper [ over here!!](http://sirsapling.tumblr.com/post/171104989228/as-some-of-you-might-have-seen-festiveferret)

Tony turned over the last page of the book and looked down at the warm weight in his lap. At some point, about halfway in, little hands had stopped reaching for the pages and a heavy head had taken residence against Tony's chest. Anthony yawned then blinked his eyes closed long enough that it could reasonably be called a micro-nap before tipping his chin up to look at Tony.

Tony looked over and caught Steve's eye. He wasn't prepared for Anthony to go from six hundred to zero so quickly. “Um. He’s drooping.”

“Yeah,” Steve yawned. “Bedtime…” He startled up and winced, one hand twitching out towards Anthony then stilling against his thigh. “Oh shoot, sorry. You probably wanted to go home.”

Tony thought it over. "Wanted" wasn't exactly accurate. He felt somewhat obligated to go home, to get out of Steve's hair, but despite their earlier conversation, and Steve's willingness to be involved in Ant's care, he didn't feel right dumping him here on only his second night and scuttering off. For one, he didn't want Steve to think he wasn't coming back, and for two… he didn't want to even come close to giving himself that option. He hadn't come by Anthony the traditional way, but he was the only blood family the kid had - that wasn't blonde, possibly evil, and also a major dick - and he wasn't going to let himself hide from this. With Steve on his side, he wouldn't fuck it up too bad, right?

Tony opened his mouth to ask if he could crash on Steve's couch before he realized that the firm line of Steve's lips and the way his fingers twitched towards Anthony's foot, were because he thought Tony wanted to go home  _ with  _ Anthony. “I think, maybe… he needs a good night’s sleep? If you don’t mind him staying here.” Tony suggested carefully, watching Steve's eyes. They brightened, but Steve stilled, as if he was holding back some physical reaction.

“Of course not. I’ll set the playpen up.”

Steve came back from the bedroom with a long square tent-like bag and a handful of fleece. He handed the fleece to Tony who pulled it apart to reveal two full-body onesies, with feet and everything. "What. Are these?"

Steve had the good grace to blush deeply and turn his attention to the bag. "Blame Jan."

Tony shook out the sleepers and held them up. One was red, white, and blue and made out in the pattern of Steve's uniform, and the other was grey, red, and gold, a surprisingly accurate replica of the Iron Man armour. "Jan bought these for him?" he asked, incredulous. 

Steve tugged a folded playpen out of the bag and started snapping it into shape. "Well… Jan bought the first one."

"The Iron Man one…?" Tony kept his eyes fixed on Steve, one hand resting on Anthony's tummy to keep him from rolling off the couch.

Steve coughed.

"Jan bought the Captain America one." Tony held it up as if it was evidence. "Because of course she did. And then who -?"

Steve was suddenly finding one of the corners of the playpen mattress impossible to get in its cover. "He was you… I thought you'd miss it. I figured you'd rather be dressed up as you instead of me." Steve dropped the mattress in and stood back, staring at the assembled playpen. "It was stupid. But I don't have any other clean ones."

"It's not stupid." Steve looked so honestly embarrassed that Tony swelled with the need to reassure him. It was amazing, really, to see how much he'd cared, how many little signs there were that he'd gone well and truly out of his way to make sure Tony was happy and healthy as a baby. Tony held up both sleepers again, the Captain America one only a few inches because Ant had caught the ankle in his toddler death grip and refused to let go. "Isn't it every kid's dream that someday they'll make merch of him? We're kickass, darling."

Steve rolled his eyes, but a little smile teased the corner of his mouth. 

"So, which one for tonight?"

"Oh, he doesn't wear the Cap one. That's his… um… security blanket?"

"You're kidding me."

"Nope." Steve settled on the floor and started double checking all of the latches for the side panels. "He calls it 'Ap.'"

As if on cue, Anthony yelled "Ap!" as loud as his tiny lungs could and waved his fist about, Cap's ankle still trapped inside. Tony held back the urge to tell Steve that he also though Anthony's cries for "Ap" had been cries for Steve, just like "Dah" and "Tee," but Steve had seemed so shocked to be called Dad, that Tony didn't want to push it. Anyone with eyes could see that Anthony adored Steve, but Steve didn't seem to like that fact pointed out, and Tony couldn't put his finger on why.

Steve dragged the playpen to the doorway, and Tony looked down at the diaper-clad baby and the Iron Man sleeper he held. Somehow he had to get the former inside the latter and he wasn't sure how. He draped Cap over Ant's eyes, earning him a sleepy giggle, and let him play with that while he worked his kicky, little feet into the legs of the sleeper. He managed to wriggle it up over the diaper and even get one arm in, but Ant wouldn't let go of Cap with the other arm, no matter how hard Tony tried to extract it.

"You've got another hand that's free. Hold it with that one." Ant blew spit bubbles at him and waved Cap again. It was a weird dichotomy: the thrill of being able to actually touch and hold the kid he'd been talking to for months, but no longer being able to reason with him, hear him talk back. It was wonderful and frustrating as shit. "You're a fu- darn genius, Tony. You can figure this out." He stuck his fingers through the empty sleeve of the sleeper and grabbed the top of Cap with them, then started wiggling it out through the arm. There was an amusing moment when Ant was half dressed, his bare chest and one bare arm sticking out of the replica Iron Man armour, while three-quarters of the Captain America sleeper burst out of the rucked-up, empty sleeve. But Tony kept tugging, hoping Steve wouldn't come back just yet, and, eventually, Ant's arm fed through after it. Tony wrestled Ant's hand free, Cap still trapped in his tiny fist, and zipped the sleeper up the rest of the way. "Take that," he whispered at the baby, who giggled like a maniac, and waved his free hand at Tony.

Tony lifted him up and settled him on his back in the crook of his arm. Ant's eyes were blinking too slow again. "Is it narcissistic to tell you how cute you are?"

Steve appeared at Tony's side, a strange smile on his face. He popped a binky in Anthony's mouth, and he started sucking gratefully. Steve guided Tony towards the bedroom, then leaned against the doorframe, giving Tony a little nod when he looked back at him. Tony lay Anthony in the bottom of the playpen and watched as he drifted off to sleep. There was a small flush of frustration at how easy this was here and how hard it had been back at home, but Tony tamped it down easily. Seeing Anthony happy in sleep was worth wandering all over the city at all hours of the night and day.

"Take Cap out once he's asleep. He shouldn't sleep with anything," Steve said softly behind him.

Tony tugged at one sleeve and was surprised when Cap slipped easily out of Ant's hold. He tossed it on the dresser and followed Steve out, shutting the door behind him. There was an odd moment where Tony felt that Steve had something he wanted to say, but couldn't. When he didn't, Tony asked, “Do you mind if I crash on your couch? I know I should probably head home and come back for him in the morning, but I’m dead on my feet here. And I’d kind of like to see how a good morning goes?”

“Of course you can.” 

The second the words were out of Steve's mouth, Tony collapsed on the couch and closed his eyes. He stretched out long and felt sleep pulling at him already. A heavy blanket landed on his legs and he blinked and smiled at Steve. This caretaker stuff seemed to come easily to the other man. Tony never would have guessed. Tomorrow, Tony was determined to figure out the key to it, to earn Anthony's trust, the wholehearted way he trusted Steve. Tomorrow, he was going to stop drowning and start figuring out how to be a parent. And, it seemed, all he had to do was follow Steve's guidance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See baby!Tony/Ant in the Iron Man sleeper [ over here!!](http://sirsapling.tumblr.com/post/171104989228/as-some-of-you-might-have-seen-festiveferret)


	6. The Business Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes away for two weeks and Steve is left to fend for himself with Anthony.

Anthony reached for the keyboard again, and Steve whipped it out of reach and propped it awkwardly on the windowsill. They could only hang up on Tony so many times before it started getting silly. On the screen, Tony laughed softly and leaned his chin on his hand. 

“The kid loves technology, what can I say? He gets that from me.”

“He also gets his obsessiveness from you,” Steve grumbled as he tugged Anthony back in his lap. He had one knee up on the desk, reaching for the keyboard again. “Look, it’s your dad!” Steve tried to draw him back into the conversation.

“Hold on,” Tony said. “There’s a box on the top shelf of the spare room closet. Go get him his own.”

Steve pushed the chair back and stood then carried a fussy Ant on one hip through their apartment. In the box, he found a pile of random computer parts, including a few spare keyboards. Steve tugged one free and brought it back to the desk. He balanced Ant in his lap, and the keyboard on his, and watched as he brightened and started smacking the keys with vigour. 

Tony laughed outright this time. “He types like you.”

Steve shot Tony a look, but it softened into a smile. “I miss you.”

“Miss you too.” Tony caught Steve’s gaze and held it. “Four more days.”

“Somehow this was harder than when I was taking care of him all on my own.”

Tony’s eyes flicked away, off screen, then he rubbed his hand over his face. He looked tired, Steve felt tired, and Steve couldn’t help wishing he’d begged Tony not to go when SI had asked. They’d just moved into their new place, just figured out a rhythm with Anthony and SHIELD and SI that was working, and then Tony had jetted off to Japan for two weeks. 

“Do you have time before your meetings to read him a bedtime story?”

Tony brightened. “Of course I do!” He waved to catch Anthony’s attention, his eyes tracking up from the keyboard to the movement on the screen. “Which book do you want?”

“Bad Mice!” Anthony yelled, punctuating each word with a smack on the keyboard.

Steve thanked the lords of parenting that Anthony had asked for one of the ones Tony had with him. They’d doubled all his favourite books before Tony left, but the first night they’d tried this, Anthony had demanded "One More Acorn," which he hadn’t asked for in the two months prior and they hadn’t bothered to send. While Tony dug out the book, Steve grabbed Cap and a bottle, then settled back in the chair with Anthony lounging on his lap, bottle in hand. He happily traded the keyboard for Cap and clutched it close to his chest, eyes fixed on Tony.

Steve flipped through their copy of the book along with Tony, but he wasn’t listening to the words anymore, letting his eyes drift shut. He just listened to Tony’s voice, staticy and broken through the computer speakers, but still unmistakably Tony. It was a new kind of aching, a new kind of missing, that he wasn’t used to. Most similar, maybe, to joining the war and leaving Gail behind, but entirely different at the same time. Tony had become his partner, his other half, not just romantically, but in almost every aspect of his life. He felt split in two.

He held Anthony a little closer, bending down to kiss the top of his head, then watched Tony. The video skipped and jumped, and Steve wished it would still. It was hard to pretend Tony was here when his normally smooth, easy way of moving and speaking was chopped up by the poor connection. Four days.

When the book was done, and Anthony started to droop, Tony met Steve’s eyes. “Wait for me?” Steve asked.

“Of course, darling.” But Steve still caught him checking the time.

He rushed through Anthony’s bedtime, he couldn’t help it, but luckily he didn’t get any pushback for it. If there was one thing Anthony was good at, it was bedtime, and after listening to stories from other parents at the park, Steve was endlessly grateful for it.

Twenty minutes later he settled in front of the screen again. “Hi.”

Tony looked up from the report he’d been flicking through and pulled his glasses off. “Hey, you. He go down alright?”

“Yeah. Better than I deserve.” Steve smirked.

Tony smiled, softer, different, the one he saved just for Steve. “He’ll wake you up early to get his own back.”

“Do you have to go?”

Tony’s eyes dropped to his watch again. “Yeah.”

Steve bit back the urge to say, “Don’t.” It wasn’t fair to Tony - he had to work - but not having him falling asleep beside Steve every night was taking its toll. Steve would have been the last person to call himself “needy” but it was starting to feel appropriate. “Okay. I love you.”

Tony blew a kiss to the camera. “Love you too. Four days.”

“Four days.” The screen went black. 

**

Four days later, Steve stepped out of the way of another hustling traveler and their wheelie case, as he skimmed the flight information.

_ Tokyo - New York - ARRIVED _

He should be here. Steve tugged his phone out of his pocket again, but there were no new messages. He was just about to awkwardly type out a message to Tony when Anthony started wriggling in his arms, and he hastily shoved the phone back in his pocket. 

“DA! DA-DA!” Anthony shouted, drawing a few amused looks from the crowd. The sliding doors for the baggage claim exit had opened and several passengers has slipped through, including Tony.

Anthony started bouncing in Steve’s arms, kicking his feet wildly and reaching out towards Tony. Steve shifted Anthony up, bracing his middle with his other hand so he wouldn’t wiggle himself all the way free. He watched Tony breeze down the ramp, unable to tamp down his own smile. Steve resisted the urge to shout Tony’s name too - Anthony was making enough of a scene for the both of them.

Tony dropped the handle of his suitcase when he was within a few steps of them and held his arms out. Steve tipped Anthony forward and into Tony’s hold. Steve could see the exhaustion and aches of a thirteen hour plane ride written all over Tony’s face, but he broke into a grin and spun Anthony around, pressing a series of ridiculously loud kisses to his cheeks. Anthony squealed and clutched at Tony, breaking into wild, hiccoughing laughter as Tony spun him. 

“Hello, Duckling.” 

“Da-a-a,” Anthony giggled out, winding both fists into Tony’s jacket. They pressed their foreheads together for a moment.

Steve grabbed Tony’s bag and started leading them towards the exit, but a hand settled on his hip, and he looked up to see Tony looking at him over Anthony’s head. They shared a small, private smile, and something that had been churning unpleasantly in Steve’s stomach for the last two weeks calmed and settled. 

Anthony wouldn’t take being ignored so soon after getting his dad back, and he tugged at Tony’s shirt and whined until Tony dropped his gaze back to him, the hand on Steve’s hip squeezing softly before releasing.

The entire car ride home was filled with Anthony recounting everything that had happened to him while Tony was gone, in a chaotic, non-chronological jumble of baby babble. Tony, however, seemed to have no trouble following along, asking questions and tickling Anthony’s ribs when his story got too silly. 

When they pushed through the front door to their apartment, Tony set Anthony down, dropped his briefcase, and sucked in a long, slow breath with his eyes closed. Steve seized the opportunity to pull him into a hug. He curled his hand around the back of Tony’s head until his face fell to Steve’s shoulder, burrowing into the place where Steve’s shirt collar ended and bare skin began. 

Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s head, catching the top of his ear, and Tony pulled back to kiss him properly. “I love you,” Steve whispered.

Tony beamed at him, but an insistent tugging on their clasped hands made them pull apart to look down.

“Ah, Da! Look. Dah,” Anthony said reverently, holding up a small plastic duck.

“Wow! That’s amazing, Ant. Where’d you get that?” Tony bent down to examine the toy.

“Baba 'n' Ga,” Anthony said proudly. He let Tony hold the duck for ten seconds longer than anyone else had been allowed to, then pointedly took it back and thundered over to his toy chest with it.

Tony looked up at Steve. “Bucky and Gail got him an entire farm animal set, and you know that’s the only one he would play with.”

Tony laughed. “Of course.”

“I’m still not sure why there was a moose in a farm animal set, though.” Steve tucked Tony’s suitcase in the hall to be emptied later. “You look exhausted. Want a nap?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Tony tipped backwards onto the couch, throwing his feet over the end, eyes fixed on Anthony, who was digging through the toy box with one hand, the other clutched around his duck. 

“Well, this little Duckling is already past due,” Steve announced, scooping Anthony up into his arms. 

Anthony made a token protest, but Steve could see his blinks getting longer, and when Steve settled him, cradled in his arms, he rubbed both his fists over his eyes. Steve carried him down the hall to change him, and he must have been even more tired than Steve thought, because he dozed off before the fresh diaper was strapped on. Steve lifted him carefully, settling him against his shoulder, pausing to press a hand against his back and feel the even rise and fall of his breath. He brought him back into the living room so Tony could kiss him before he put him down, but when he stepped through the door, Steve stopped and pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh. Tony was sprawled on the couch where Steve had left him, legs kicked over the arm, but he was fast asleep, one arm stretched out towards the floor, mouth softly open.

Steve watched him for a moment, then, unwilling to split his family up again after two weeks apart, nudged Tony up, sliding onto the couch behind him, until Tony was tucked between his legs, curled up on Steve’s chest. He settled the sleeping Anthony against Tony’s chest and even half-asleep, Tony hooked an arm around his back and pulled him close. Steve furrowed the fingers of one hand through Tony’s hair and settled the other on Anthony’s back, fingers twined with Tony’s. 

Steve told himself he’d stay awake, so they wouldn’t oversleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See some chapter doodles [here](http://sirsapling.tumblr.com/post/174514860263/warning-here-be-unclean-doodles-as-promised)


	7. Winter Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up in the new apartment with a chill.
> 
> Set shortly after the epilogue of Trouble.

Steve blinked awake, smacking his dry tongue against the roof of his mouth. They needed to get a humidifier or something; he always woke up parched here. Tony was curled in the curve of Steve’s body, one hand tucked under his pillow, the other resting lightly on Steve’s bicep where it was trapped under Tony’s neck. Steve snuck his free arm under Tony’s shirt, pressing it flat against his chest and got a sleepy, little groan in response.

Their room was cold - they still hadn’t unpacked the heavy blankets. Every night when they got ready for bed, one of them would mention it. The nights were getting longer, the days shorter, and Anthony was outgrowing his sleepers at an astonishing rate. But even though they both knew they’d be chilled in the morning, under nothing but cotton sheets and a light duvet, neither Steve nor Tony seemed able to face hauling the bags and boxes out of the spare room to try and find the big comforter.

Besides, they were never cold when they fell asleep, tangled in each others arms, sweaty, sated, huffing soft breaths against the skin of each others shoulders. It was hard to think about needing heavy blankets then.

But Steve was cold now, so he tugged Tony closer and pressed his chilled nose to the back of his neck. Tony mumbled something intelligible, but he burrowed closer instead of pulling away. For the eighth morning in a row, Steve tried to talk himself into getting up and going for a run, and for the eighth morning in a row, he easily talked himself out of it. It was already almost 6:30 which meant Anthony would be up soon, and going for a run would leave Tony to handle the morning on his own. He also had no idea which box he’d packed his running shoes in, and rummaging around in the spare room would wake both Tony and Anthony.

Plus… it was really cold.

Tony grabbed Steve’s wrist and rolled onto his front, trying to pull Steve’s body over him. Steve chuckled, draping himself around his lover as tightly as he could, without smothering him completely. He lay in the soft, chilled silence and listened to Tony’s heartbeat. Tony’s hair tickled Steve’s cheek and he leaned back a little, pausing to press a kiss against Tony’s scalp.

He breathed him in. Tony always smelled like heated metal and vermouth. No matter what. It was steadying, grounding. Steve was sure if he went blind he would still be able to find his way back to Tony.

He was just drifting off again when a small noise broke the early morning silence. It wasn’t a full Anthony giggle, just a tiny, infant sigh, a huff of breath. Steve shifted away from Tony a little, inclining his head towards the monitor to catch any other noises.

It was hard, getting used to Anthony being in another room, but they’d both agreed that the best way to get him settled in the new place was to have him sleeping alone from day one. If they both spent several hours of the first night sitting just out of sight in the hallway, well that was no one’s business but their own.

Steve didn’t trust the monitor yet. He kept expecting to wake up and find it had died in the night and Anthony had been screaming alone in his room for hours. Or wasn’t there at all. But when they’d moved, Tony had designed and built a special one, and Steve trusted it more than any they’d had before. But it was still hard. He was getting there, though.

They’d all stayed up too late last night, and he was fully expecting to hear Anthony break into grumpy sniffles as he woke, but instead, he just hummed and sighed to himself. When the humming broke into little babbled “Da”s, Steve wriggled out of Tony’s arms and out of bed. Tony whimpered then grumbled, his arm reaching for the spot where Steve had been, but Steve only smiled at him as he crossed the room. Tony’s bare back caught the startlingly bright morning light, and Steve paused to tug the too-thin blanket up over his shoulders.

It was weird light, actually, soft, as if it was a cloudy midday, but it was still early, too early for anything but harsh morning rays. Steve padded down the hall and pushed open Anthony’s door. He could see him clearly, on his back in the crib, holding a foot in each hand and wiggling them slowly back and forth. He turned at the noise, and grinned wide. “Teeeee,” he murmured, holding his arms out, but refusing to stand.

Steve clicked the monitor off so the noise wouldn’t wake Tony and bent over the railing to lift Anthony into his arms. He was warm and soft in his flannel sleeper, the red and gold pattern of the Iron Man armour crisscrossing his little tummy. He settled in Steve’s arms with a happy gurgle, and Steve rescued his binky from the bottom of the crib, sucked it clean in his own mouth, then popped it in Anthony’s. The light was still weird…

He shuffled around the crib - they really needed to reorganize the furniture in this room - and over to the window. When he pushed the thin curtain aside, his eyes went wide. The whole street was covered in a soft blanket of bright, white snow. The sky was clouded, but the snow reflected what little morning light there was, and the whole street glowed.

“Hey, Duckling!” Steve turned him to face the window. “Look! It snowed!”

Anthony pressed his palms to the glass and followed them with his forehead, looking out at the streetscape below. Steve wasn’t sure Anthony would recognize the snow for what it was. This was his first snow with them, after all, and if he had any memories of snow from before that, he would have been far too young to appreciate it. He turned to look at Steve with wide eyes then back to the window.

But Steve could see he wasn’t really awake yet, blinking too long and too slow, and sucking steadily at the binky. Steve closed the curtain again and tucked Anthony against his chest, slipping out of the room. He was debating taking him to the couch and reading for a while, letting Anthony wake up on his own schedule before facing breakfast when a soft, “Steve…” wafted out of the master bedroom.

He stuck his head in. “Honey?”

“Cold,” Tony whined, waving a hand in Steve’s general direction without lifting his head.

Steve rerouted his plans, darting into the living room just long enough to grab the big, handknit afghan that hung over the couch then back to the bedroom. He shut the door behind him and tossed the heavy blanket over Tony before settling on the other side of the bed. Tony moaned and burrowed under it. Getting into bed without dislodging Anthony was a challenge, but he managed it, then he shifted until he was pressed against Tony’s side. He tucked the blanket in around them, drawing it up as high as he could without covering anyone’s face.

Tony hummed with pleasure and rolled to his side, plastered against Steve’s arm. He rested his face on Steve’s bicep, level with Anthony’s, and blinked at him. “Good morning, little duck,” he whispered.

Steve could feel Anthony’s cheeks split into a smile against his chest, but he stayed quiet until Tony leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose, then he broke into sleepy giggles.

“It snowed,” Steve said softly.

“Mmm, that explains why my toes are ice cubes.”

Steve snorted. “Your toes are always ice cubes.”

Tony pressed them against Steve’s calf. “Not when I have you to cuddle with.”

“You always have me to cuddle with,” Steve said, wrapping his arm around Tony’s shoulders and tugging him further up onto his chest, “and they’re still always ice cubes.”

Tony snaked his arm around Steve’s waist and squeezed, then shifted his hand up to curl over Anthony’s back. “Hmm, Junior gets to have the prime chest real estate. Hardly seems fair.”

“Are you really going to be jealous of a one-year-old, Tony?”

“Of course I am, frequently and without remorse. He gets all kinds of special attention.”

Steve turned to look down at Tony and caught the wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t think I give you special attention?” he shot back.

Tony laughed. “Okay, fair point.” He yawned then stretched, rubbing an acre of skin against Steve’s side. Anthony, on Steve’s chest, copied the movement, reaching his arms up high and his legs out long, before settling again with a soft sigh. Steve’s heart swelled in his chest. He bent down and pressed a long kiss to Anthony’s warm head, breathing in his unique scent - baby powder and… that indescribable toddler smell, like fresh bread. Steve was sure he would never get enough of that.

“We should take him out in the snow today,” Steve said, after the soft silence had stretched on long enough that he thought both the Starks might have fallen back asleep.

“Absolutely,” Tony murmured into his chest, drooling a little as he moved his lips. “Which box has the sleds in it?”

“We don’t have any sleds… unless you brought them from your old place.”

“Nuh…” Tony was drifting off again. “Don’t have any… we’ll have to use your shield.” He giggled.

“We’re not going sledding on my shield. He’s too small to sled anyway.”

“He could sit in your lap.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but the idea was actually deeply appealing. Sliding down a little hill with Anthony in his orange snowsuit, tucked tight against Steve’s lap. The way his little face would light up, cheeks pink with cold, and he’d laugh and laugh. “Maybe…” Steve whispered.

Tony was too asleep to remember and hold him to it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See some chapter doodles [here](http://sirsapling.tumblr.com/post/174514860263/warning-here-be-unclean-doodles-as-promised)


	8. Go Be a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a mission that doesn't go quite right.
> 
> Set ~two years after the end of In Trouble Deep.

"Clear!" an agent Steve couldn't remember the name of called out, and Steve turned down to the next hallway. Gunfire broke out in a lab room at the end of the hall, and Steve raised his shield. It was heavy in his arms.

SHIELD agents poured into the lab in great numbers, clearing each floor, making good use of their incredible technology. The mission was right, necessary, he couldn't argue that, but for the first time,  _ he  _ didn't feel necessary. He felt superfluous, tacked on.

"Cap?" an agent said, and Steve forced his feet to move, an odd, uncomfortable kind of anticipation - anxiety - twisting in his stomach. 

Floor by floor they cleared the lab, shuffling the poor captives out in groups of three, flanked by agents on all sides. Steve pressed on, wasting no time as they tore through each level of the lab. 

When they all finally called "clear" for the last time, Steve waited for the rush of relief, of pride, but it didn't come, not this time. Instead, a thread of dread stayed curled around his spine, refusing to let him relax. He was still wound tight all the way back to the Triskelion. He tried to find the edge of it during the debrief, a corner he could pick at until the reason for his discomfort came clear, but instead, he just felt worse and worse. The mission commander droned on, and Steve tamped down a rush of frustrated energy that welled up and told him to  _ leave, get out.  _

Steve's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out eagerly. That would be Tony, and all Steve wanted in that moment was to hear from his family. The tug that threatened to drag him out of the room had a compass point now: home.

_ Gail: Is it alright if you pick Anthony up a little earlier this Saturday? Bucky and I have a dinner that night. If you can't, we can always reschedule! _

Steve frowned at the phone screen, trying not to let his untethered anger latch onto Gail for the simple crime of not being Tony. But Steve was restless and antsy and the feeling of superfluousness hadn't settled since the end of the mission. They could have handled this without him, and he had nothing to say at this meeting. He was unneeded.

And that wasn't what was bothering him.

He didn't  _ want  _ to be needed, for the first time, maybe in his whole life. Or at least, he didn't want to be needed  _ here.  _ He wanted to go home. He wanted to be needed by his son, by his partner, by his life - and not by the US government.

Guilt flared up to join his discomfort, and Steve couldn't take it anymore. He shoved up out of his seat, waved the phone in some sort of vague excuse, and walked out, right into a cab pointed towards his apartment. No one would question Captain America's sudden need to be elsewhere, and he could always read the debrief notes afterwards.

Steve dumped both his bags on the shoe mat by the front door and stretched tall, hearing his back crack. The apartment was very obviously empty, so he crossed the dining room to lean over the kitchen counter and check the fridge for notes.

Tony had scribbled  _ "At the park <3 -T"  _ on a bright pink post-it, so Steve marched straight into the shower and scrubbed off the last of the mission, keeping himself from vibrating painfully by the door until they returned. He'd showered quickly at the Trisk before the meeting, but it wasn't quite the same as showering in his own bathroom, alone. 

Tony must have let Anthony bathe in their bathroom the other night because the bottom of the shower stall was covered in plastic toys. Steve imagined the two of them showering together, playing with the toys and splashing each other, and his chest swelled painfully with a new kind of jealousy. 

He didn't begrudge Tony being there for those things - their arrangement meant they each got their fair share of those moments - but Steve didn't want to miss  _ anything  _ anymore. He didn't want to only get half his son. He didn't want to come home from risking his life and see all the things he could lose forever if things went badly. 

He didn't want to miss a single second with Tony. 

A toddler shriek and creak of the front door had Steve turning off the taps and drying off. He pulled on gym shorts and a t-shirt and found Anthony and Tony arguing lightly in the living room. 

"It's not a dog, Buggy, it's a cat."

Anthony raised a crumpled piece of paper in his hand in triumph. "Tog!"

Tony caught sight of Steve, and his whole being brightened, making Steve's heart pound with barely contained emotion. "Thought I heard someone in my shower," Tony said, leaning in for a damp kiss. "It was either you or a very smelly burglar."

"Tee!" Anthony screeched, pushing to his feet and colliding with Steve's legs. Steve scooped him up and buried his face in Anthony's neck, breathing him in. 

Something painful clenched in his chest, and Steve struggled to school his face into a smile. "Hey, Duckling! Have a nice weekend?" Steve avoided Tony's eye, knowing his partner would see in an instant that he wasn't himself.

"Ah dew a urtlin!" Anthony proclaimed, and for the first time, Steve hated that he had to look to Tony for a translation, even though Tony had to turn him just as often.

"He drew a turtle," Tony clarified, his brow creasing as he studied Steve.

"Oh, wow. I'd love to see that." 

"He promised to wash his hands all by himself, first. Go on, brat. Clean up and we'll have a snack and show Papa all your art." As soon as Anthony powered out of the room, Tony turned to Steve, studying him closely. "You okay?"

Steve hooked an arm around his waist and drew Tony close. He pressed a kiss to his brow. "No. But we'll talk later, okay? I don't want to talk while the duck's awake."

"Okay." Tony drew him in for a warm comforting kiss, but his jaw was still tight and his eyes were pinched. 

Steve stroked his thumb along Tony's neck, behind his ear. "Don't worry. Nothing's wrong, no one's hurt, and I still love you. So much. I just need to vent about this mission a little, and small ears shouldn't overhear."

"Gotcha." Tony's whole body relaxed. "Good. Okay. Thank you."

Steve let himself sink into his parental role, shelving the feelings the mission had dredged up in the face of taking care of his son. They made it through the rest of the night with games and books and cuddles, and Tony, perhaps sensing something, let Steve give Anthony his bath alone and tuck him into bed.

Steve came out of the bedroom to find Tony lounging on their bed with a book, wrapped in a robe, a glass of wine perched precariously on the bedside table. Steve crossed the room and fell onto the bed, crawling up into Tony's arms. The book was tossed aside, and Tony buried his face in Steve's hair. "What's wrong, love?"

"I don't even know how to put it into words," Steve muttered into Tony's chest. "It was just different this time. I was  _ scared.  _ I've never been scared before. Nothing happened. It was a routine smash and grab. But I was scared… scared I was missing something, that something would happen to me and you two would be left alone, that it was all going by too fast…Being there felt wrong."

Tony's fingers brushed over Steve's scalp, curling through his hair.

"He suddenly seems so old. He's growing up so fast. I -" Steve cut off. 

Tony hooked a hand around his jaw and tilted his face up until their gazes met. "Steve… you know, you don't have to keep fighting if you don't want to. There will always be battles. There will always be a reason to ask you to help. But you've more than done your time. If you wanted to retire, stay home with Ant, no one could blame you for that - I certainly wouldn't."

Steve opened and closed his mouth. He'd - he'd never - never really thought about  _ retiring.  _ That was something that happened to other people. In fact, he'd always imagined that Tony would someday. It wasn't like he needed to work. But Steve had always seen himself pulling on the Captain America armour forever, until -

Until it killed him.

But he didn't want that anymore. 

"...Really?" was all he managed to say.

Tony chuckled. "Really."

"You'd be okay with me staying home with Ant? It'd be weird for you to still be out there fighting, being a hero, and for me to just be… here."

Tony stroked his thumb over Steve's cheek. "It's not about me, darling. I want you to do this whenever you feel ready, whenever you need it. And it's not like you can't go back out someday if you change your mind. Maybe when Ant's older. But I think it's a good idea to have someone here all the time, especially if we're thinking about taking on another monster someday soon. You stay here and be a hero for our kids, and I'll go save the world and have you to come home to. Lord knows, I won't be that far behind you, but you've missed things before, this is your chance to live for exactly what you want to live for, so take it."

Steve thought about Bucky, about Gail, about falling asleep in one century and waking in another. He thought about missing Ant learning to walk, about the joy of every new word he absorbed. He thought about putting the shield down and never picking it up again, and it felt... okay. It really felt okay. 

"Okay." 

Tony burrowed down and pulled Steve against his chest, sipping his wine then lifting his book again, giving Steve space to roll the idea around his mind.

And as he thought about waking up in the morning and only having one, tiny, three-year-old world to save, more and more, he liked the shape of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Ferret's "go be a hero" bingo square!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	9. Giggly Baby Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony comes home from work, but Steve and Ant are nowhere to be found.
> 
> This is set between the end of Trouble and Little Bits: Chapter Eight

Coming home had always been the best part of Tony’s day, but now, coming home meant something entirely different than it ever had before. Coming home before had meant a stiff drink, a silk robe, the chance to turn his phone off for a while and breathe deeply. It meant nursing his bumps and scrapes from a day out with the Ultimates or easing away a stress headache with enough vodka to down an elephant. 

Now, however, coming home meant hearing Ant’s delighted screech when Tony walked through the door, seeing Steve’s soft smile as he appeared in the hallway, or from the other side of the fridge door. Now, coming home  _ meant something.  _

Tony shoved his key in the lock and stepped inside. “Honey, I’m home!” he called, then chuckled at himself. He tossed his keys and briefcase aside, then paused, looking around. He’d received no reply. Huh. Steve wouldn’t be out with Ant this late, it would be too much of a threat to bedtime. Besides, they had a little routine going for Tony’s SI days, and he found himself pouting a little at the thought of missing it. 

He peered over the island into the dark kitchen. The oven was on its lowest setting, and he could see a casserole dish inside, but no one was there. The living room was empty as well, Ant’s blocks scattered across the rug, his blue blanket slung casually over the side of his playpen. Tony kicked his shoes off then padded down the hall, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved. 

Ant’s room was quiet and empty; no one was in the bath. Tony shucked his suit jacket and shirt, pulling one of Steve’s soft, worn SHIELD hoodies over his undershirt instead. No one in their bedroom. He checked the spare bedroom too - nothing. 

He was just pulling out his phone to call Steve and find out where he’d disappeared to - his heart clenching a little at the thought that something might have gone wrong, that Steve might have taken Ant to the doctor or to Bucky and Gail’s while he dealt with something Ultimates related - when he heard the faintest lilt of his baby’s laugh.

He followed the noise, straining his ears over the hum of the apartment, and as he turned from the hall back into the great room, he realized there was one place he hadn’t checked.

He pushed open the sliding door to the balcony and grinned as Steve’s blonde hair and Anthony’s black appeared over the back of the chaise. “Hey you,” he called softly. Steve twisted around and broke into a smile when he eyes found Tony.

“Hey.” His smile deepened. “Good day?”

“Better now. What are you two doing hiding out here?”

“Thought we’d have cuddle time out in the fresh air today.”

Tony circled around the chaise to find Steve stretched out, his long legs nearly hanging off the edge of the cushion, and Ant on his hands and knees on Steve’s chest, supported by Steve’s hands. “And you started without me?”

Ant, finally able to see where the voice of his dad was coming from, spun around and squealed with delight. “Da! Da!” He slumped over onto his side, catching Steve in the ribs with one elbow. Tony saw Steve wince, but he just caught Ant between his arms and steadied him as he reached towards Tony.

Steve smiled up at him. “We were just warming up. Wanted to be ready for you.” 

He eased Ant back down onto his tummy then opened his arms. Tony crawled up the length of the chaise to settle into his hold, but leaned over to press a kiss to his lips first, bypassing Ant, who squealed again with a mix of delight at finding himself the filling in a father sandwich and indignation at not getting the first kiss. Tony bent back down when indigation won out, bracing his weight with his hands on either side of Steve’s shoulders and pressed a furious volley of kisses all over Ant’s face. Ant screeched and laughed and batted him away, his fists catching in Tony’s hood strings, pulling him in again.

“Hey there, Duckling. Were you good for your Papa today?” He kissed again, and Ant broke into a fit of giggles.

“Nope,” Steve said, popping the “p”.

Tony looked up with a raised eyebrow. 

“Nap time was  _ interesting.”  _ Steve kept his voice light. “I think those new crackers upset his tummy a little.”

“Aw, poor buggy boy.” Tony nuzzled into his neck, and Ant gasped for breath between peals of laughter. “I’ll take them off the order.”

Leaving Ant to his giggles, Tony crawled up again and kissed Steve, with more purpose this time. He broke the kiss and tipped his forehead against Steve’s. “Love you,” he whispered. Even after all these months, it still blew his mind that he came home to this. That for the other half of the week, he was the one that Steve was coming home to. It was too perfect. And this insane, beautiful, wonderful man had agreed to marry him. “Don’t know how I bagged you.”

“Well, you had a really cute kid,” Steve said, eyes twinkling. He buried his fingers in Ant’s side, tickling him until he went off again, and Tony stretched out on Steve’s chest, caging Ant in with his arms until he was trapped between them. 

“So did you.” 

Steve wrapped his arms around both of them, and Tony hugged Ant into his chest, settling into Steve’s hold. Ant couldn’t seem to stop giggling, and Steve and Tony took turns teasing him with light fingertips to his ribs or pressing silly, smacking kisses to his face to set him off again. They were all unwilling to move, even as dinner time snuck closer.


	10. The Terrible Twos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hears a noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Ults day everyone!

Tony was staring at the eighth spreadsheet in a row when he heard it. A muffled thump from the other room followed by a toddler screech-wail combination. He winced, scrolling down to the next line. 

Steve had been away on a mission for over a week, and when he'd come back this time, Ant hadn't been as forgiving as usual. It didn't help that Tony'd had to dive right back into work the second Steve had crossed the threshold, tired and dirty with a hole ripped in the side of his uniform. Steve had taken a shower, changed, and Tony had dumped their two-year-old in his arms and motored off to the office.

That night he'd come home to a tense Steve and a grumpy baby.

Two days later, Ant was still testing his limits with Steve, and they were beginning to believe that the Terrible Twos applied to magical-infinity-gem-tumor-clone babies too. 

Tony paused on the next line, leaning back in his chair and listening for Steve's reply to what sounded like a full on Anthony meltdown, but all he could hear was Ant snuffling and whimpering. What he heard next had Tony pushing out of his chair and trotting into the kitchen.

Softly, echoing down the hall so Tony could catch it, but not loud enough to be heard by tiny ears, Tony caught Steve whispering a sharp curse to the wall.  _ "Shit." _

In the kitchen, he found Ant in his high chair, tears leaving red streaks down his face, mouth pursed in a perfect baby pout. There was a plastic baby bowl on the floor, a splatter of oatmeal tracking away from it in an arc. The counter was a mess of open packages and containers. 

Steve was in the living room, standing with his back to Ant. He leaned over the back of the couch, both hands gripping the cushion hard enough that his knuckles were white. He breathed so carefully and slowly that Tony could hear the high-pressure air leaking around his teeth.

Ant was safe where he was, just grumpy, so Tony walked over to Steve and landed a hand on his lower back. When that drained some of the tension out of Steve's muscles, Tony rubbed both hands up and down either side of his spine. "You okay?" he said softly.

"I almost yelled at him," Steve said to the couch, voice too carefully steady. "He won't eat. I've tried everything. I'm so frustrated and I'm so tired, and I almost yelled, Tony."

Tony dug his fingers in a little harder, finding a mess of knots in Steve's back. Steve let out another breath then stood up and turned around. He dropped a hand to Tony's hip and squeezed lightly before turning towards Ant again, but Tony grabbed his wrist and stopped him. 

"I'm okay now," Steve said. But his teeth clacked together loudly and he radiated tension. 

"No, you're not." Tony tugged him into the hall, watching Ant fuss out of the corner of his eye. "Go take a bath."

Steve's expression twisted horribly with pain, and he moved to pull his arm away, but Tony held him tight and shook his head.

"Steve. I'm  _ not _ telling you that you can't be around our son. I would never do that. Just like I know you'd never yell at him or hurt him. If you really want to go back in and tackle this toddler meltdown, I'll let you. But I'm telling you, we're a team, and I'm tagging myself in. Go take a bath and then you can do dinner for us after he's in bed while I finish up my work."

Steve hovered in the hallway. "I can handle it."

Tony tipped forward and pressed a light, chaste kiss to his lips. "But you don't have to. You'll have my back next time."

Firm arms pulled him into a hug, and Tony felt a kiss burrow into his hair, then Steve turned on his heel and marched off down the hall to the bathroom. 

Tony walked back into the kitchen and put his hands on his hips, looking down at his son. Ant sniffled and pointed at his spilled oatmeal with a whine. "Yeah, you did that buddy. No more oatmeal, I guess. Okay, here we go."

Tony cleaned Ant's hands off then took him out of the high chair and plunked him down behind the baby gate in the living room. He set him up with his turtles then turned some soft music on and went to the kitchen to clean. Ant started out throwing his toys and grumping at them, but once he'd sniffled himself out, he started stacking the turtles in his toy pot and stirring them with the TV remote. 

When the oatmeal was cleaned up and all the failed food had been put away, Tony whipped up some quick scrambled eggs and loaded them on a plate. He climbed over the baby gate and sat on the couch, ignoring Ant completely. Tony dipped a fork in the eggs and pretended to start shovelling them in his mouth. 

The sound of turtles being assaulted stopped.

"Mmm," Tony hummed idly, tucking into the eggs with pleasure.

"Da?"

He turned towards his son. "Yeah, Duckling?"

"Geggy?" Ant pointed at the plate.

Tony frowned and pretended to think about it. "These are my eggs, though."

"Gegg…" Ant said very softly, turning big, blue, puppy dog eyes on Tony that he may have inherited from his Dad but definitely learned how to use in a targeted strike from his Papa. "Peese."

"Well, since you asked so nicely, I guess. Come here then." 

Ant crawled over to the couch, and Tony lifted him up and settled him at his hip. He kissed the top of his head. 

"You have to really eat them, Anthony. You can't throw them like you did the other food, okay?"

"Gegg." He reached for the plate, fists opening and closing. Tony placed it in his lap, abandoning the fork to the coffee table. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when Ant picked up a piece of egg and put it carefully in his mouth. 

Tony was quiet and still for the rest of Ant's meal, letting him focus on eating. At this point, the smallest thing could set off another temper tantrum, so Tony did everything he could to not be a distraction. 

Ant worked his way through most of the eggs before he started flagging, poking the remaining yellow clumps instead of eating them. Tony set the plate aside and gathered Ant up in his lap, holding him tight against his chest. "You okay, buggy boy?" Tony asked softly.

Ant sniffled a little. After a moment of quiet, he plucked at Tony's sleeve and said, "Tee?"

Tony's heart clenched. "Papa is having a bath. He got a bit upset and he's taking a parent minute."

"Oh," Ant said, as if he understood. At the very least he knew Papa + bath, even if the rest was beyond him. 

"I'm sure he'll be out soon though, so why don't you pick three books you want to read before bed, and I'm sure Papa would love to read them to you."

Ant scrambled down off the couch and motored over to his bookshelf. He was still making a stack that was decidedly more than three when Steve reappeared, clean and looking much more relaxed. He settled on the couch beside Tony, immediately pulling him close and breathing him in. Steve smelled like spiced body wash, and he was warm and damp against Tony's side. 

"Tee!" Ant squealed. He attempted to pick up his entire stack of books, failed, considered them for a moment, then grabbed the top one only and powered back across the room to tumble into Steve's lap. Steve hauled him and tucked him in between their bodies. "Bad Mice," Ant said decisively, handing the book to Steve.

Steve curled his long arm around both of them, his fingers stroking up and down the outside of Tony's arm, and he began to read. Tony rested his head on Steve's shoulder, feeling his soft, low voice vibrating through his chest. He paused at the end of the story and turned to Tony, sneaking a kiss before Ant could push them apart with a huff.  _ Thank you,  _ he mouthed. 

_ Anytime,  _ Tony mouthed back.  _ Love you.  _

Several books and a baby bath later, Tony was back at his desk finishing up the last spreadsheet when Steve appeared at his elbow with a bowl of lovely smelling pasta covered in a smooth cream sauce. Tony took the food gratefully. "Thank you, darling. This looks perfect."

Steve settled in the chair next to his desk. "I keep thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't been here," Steve said with a twist of his lips.

Tony sighed and set his fork down. "You would have punched a pillow, Ant would have kept pushing your buttons, and bedtime would have been a bit of a nightmare. But you'd have gotten there, Steve. You did this on your own for months. You know you can do it."

"I don't like feeling angry around him, Tony. I already feel big and scary enough as it is."

"Ant is  _ not  _ scared of you. He was grumpy and tired and hungry today, and he took it out on you. Tomorrow he'll take it out on me. He's going through a rough patch. You're allowed to feel frustrated about it. Lord knows, I am. I trust you, though, completely." 

Steve nodded, stole a noodle from Tony's bowl then nodded again. "Not implicitly though, right? I mean in the world we're in… if I really was going to hurt him -?"

"I'd repulsor you into next week. I love you, but no hesitation."

Steve deflated. "Thank you." He stood again, stretching tall, and Tony took the opportunity to grab a handful of his perfect rear. 

"Go pour some wine and pick a movie. I'll be out in ten minutes."

"Okay."

"Hey, Steve?"

Steve paused in the doorway. "Yes?"

"You're a wonderful father." 


	11. Snow Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set shortly after Chapter 7 of Little Bits. Ant enjoys some winter fun with his parents.

"It's too big." Steve lifted Anthony up from under his arms and held him out, frowning. 

"It's fine," Tony insisted. He reached out and pushed the hood back out of Anthony's eyes.

Anthony stared at them, hanging loosely from Steve's grip. He stuffed one, huge, puffy mitten in his mouth and started sucking. The snowsuit was definitely too big. It was enormous and fluffy and orange, and their son had lost all baby shape and was quickly approaching, "Traffic cone." Steve nodded. "He looks like a traffic cone."

Tony plucked him out of Steve's grip and blew raspberry kisses against his cheek until Anthony gurgled with laughter around his mitten. "An adorable traffic cone. And a very warm one." Tony settled Anthony on his hip and winked at Steve. "Let's go."

Steve pulled on his own jacket and followed Tony and Anthony out. The park across the street was a swathe of perfect, smooth snow. Tony charged into it immediately, a huge grin on his face as he dipped Anthony down to drag his boot-covered feet through a drift. Steve followed after him, smiling himself at the raucous giggles. Anthony kicked wildly, sending snow everywhere, and Tony darted back with a shout, squeezing his eyes shut as the spray caught him in the face.

Steve reached his side and reached up to brush the snow out of Tony's eyes. He glanced around quickly and when he was sure the street was empty, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the end of Tony's chilled, pink nose. Tony smiled softly and handed Anthony back over. "I want to teach him something."

"Okay."

Tony bent and touched his forehead to Anthony's for a moment. "Watch this, bug boy." Tony took a step back then spread his arms wide and fell backwards into the snow. It puffed up around him with a resounding crunch, and Steve chuckled himself at the goofy joy on Tony's face. "Snow angel!" Tony declared, wafting his arms and legs back and forth.

Steve tilted Anthony down so he could watch then held out a hand to help Tony up to his feet without ruining the shape. They looked down at it. "Not bad," Steve said.

Tony tilted his head. "The one arm is crooked. Let me try again."

Steve shook his head but laughed again as Tony flopped backwards into the snow and wriggled around. He stood up again and brushed himself off, but Steve was distracted by Anthony squirming and babbling in his arms, reaching for the snow. "You want to try?" 

"Ah!" Anthony squirmed again.

"Alright." Steve set Anthony down in the snow, holding on until his legs were steady under him. He released him then gestured towards him. "Okay, go on. Fall back!"

Anthony spread his arms wide, just like his dad, then tipped forward onto his face in the snow drift.

Steve yelped and scooped him up, immediately pulling his glove off with his teeth to brush the snow out of Anthony's surprised face with his fingers. "Oh, duckling -" Steve was cut off by a burst of laughter. He looked over, and Tony was doubled over, clutching his stomach, laughing so hard he almost lost his balance on the slippery path. 

Anthony looked over at Tony, a slight pout forming as he considered a full breakdown. But when Tony looked up at him and started laughing all over again, Anthony's frown broke into a smile and then a giggle. He snorted in Steve's arms as Steve desperately tried to clean the snow out of his hood. 

Tony tripped over to them and kissed Anthony soundly on his forehead, his hand landing on Steve's hip and squeezing lightly. "That was perfect, baby boy, best snow angel ever."

Anthony blew a raspberry at him, and they all laughed. As they walked back towards the apartment, Steve looked down to the shape Anthony had made in the snow. "It's more of a snow starfish," he said to Tony, and Tony chuckled.

"Better than a traffic cone!"


	12. Coffee Mug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a realization.
> 
> Set at the beginning of chapter seventeen of In Trouble Deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you asked for Tony's POV of this morning, so here it is! :D

Tony woke slowly to the rush of water in the kitchen then rather suddenly, the rest of the way, to a shrill ring of toddler-giggling from the foot of the bed. He groaned and dug his face into the pillow, willing the morning to hold off just a little bit longer. 

Dishes rattled in the other room, so he cracked an eye at the clock - 6:28. That meant Steve was back from his run and Tony had a few more minutes before he had to get up and face the day. 

“He’s your kid before seven!” he called out, and grinned into the pillow when he heard Steve pad into the bedroom a minute later. He turned to watch as Steve made a ridiculous face at Anthony, which broke into a grin when Ant bounced on his little toes and yelled, “Teee!”

As much as he loved hearing that sound, it was a lot of noise for so early in the morning. Tony rolled back over and groaned into the pillow dramatically. “How are you both such relentlessly morning people?”

Steve laughed. “If you went to bed at six like the duckling does, you would be too.” With Anthony gathered up, they both slipped out, Steve shutting the door softly behind him. 

Tony let himself doze, but ten minutes later, he forced himself out of bed. He dressed quickly, his brain still on autopilot, and stepped out into the kitchen, yawning. He settled against the counter and watched Steve get Anthony started on his bottle, the familiar routine helping keep some of the warmth of the bed wrapped around him. Once he was sucking away, Steve deposited the baby in Tony's waiting arms. 

The warm weight of Anthony against his chest brought Tony rapidly to the here and now. The kitchen smelled like sizzling butter and baby formula. Steve's apartment was warm, but Tony could feel the cool air from his run still radiating off his clothes whenever he moved close. 

They chatted while Ant downed his bottle, nearly dribbling half of it back out all over Tony's suit when he was done. Steve took him back hurriedly and cleaned him up while Tony poured them both coffee, then offered him back to Tony, a binkie replacing the bottle, Tony trading out for the second mug. It made something warm and comforting thrum in Tony's chest to have Steve trust him so implicitly with Ant. Even though, in many ways, he was more Tony's kid that anyone's, you'd have to be an idiot not to see how devoted Ant was to Steve and vice versa. If Steve had made a claim on their son, it would have been valid; Tony would have been hard-pressed to take him away. But instead, Steve had opened up their little family and shared, welcoming Tony in, into his home, even. 

There was no amount of gratitude in the world that could live up to that.

"Meeting?" Steve asked, waving his coffee mug in the direction of Tony's early morning suit.

“Yeah. Ugh, why do I let them book these things for eight AM?” Tony buried his face in Anthony’s neck and breathed in: milk, and Steve's body wash, and that inexplicable baby smell. He didn't want to go to work, couldn't even remember what the meeting was about; he wanted to stay home with Ant and Steve. It seemed like Ant was doing something new every hour, these days, and he didn't want to miss any of it. 

They all shared breakfast, playing baby dodgeball as Ant tried to eat everything that wasn't tied down, except for his own eggs. Tony flipped through the paper, drawing out his food to stay a little longer, even as time ticked on. He frowned at Business and Politics before glancing at Sports. “Your team’s not doing great in the playoffs,” he said, shooting Steve a smirk.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Steve quipped back, shoveling in a haughty forkful of eggs.

Tony grinned as he finished eating and moved the plate closer to Ant. Ant started squishing the rest of his eggs flat with his palms, giggling as they squirted up between his fingers in an oily mess. Tony watched, half his mind wandering unenthusiastically through his plans for the day. Then a thought struck him. He'd booked this meeting without talking to Steve first, and wasn't there a change they'd made to the schedule? “Shit, are you going in today?" he asked, flinching at the curse when Steve's eyes narrowed. "The thing last week with the hostages and then this meeting has me all muddled.”

“No, you’re fine,” Steve assured him. “I’m going in tomorrow. I’ve got him today.”

Tony deflated, relief coursing through him. He needed to get better at planning around a baby. He needed to start picking up the slack too; he relied too much on Steve to remember everything. “Okay, good.” He bent down to press a kiss to Anthony’s cheek. “What are you going to do with Papa today?”

“Tee!” Anthony exclaimed loudly, throwing his hands, and a rather impressive amount of eggs into the air. Tony tried to dodge the sudden cascade of food, wincing and Steve rose up and plucked the baby out of Tony's lap before it could get any worse. Tony watched him tut and shake eggs he wasn't going to eat anyway out of Ant's fist. 

Tony wondered for the nine millionth time if Steve really was okay with Ant calling him Tee. He just couldn't seem to pick up Papa no matter how hard they tried, though really, Tony was the only one trying. Ant knew Steve to be his Papa, responded to "Where's Papa" by pointing at Steve and then said "Tee" if you asked, "who's that?" immediately after. Oh well, there was no way they weren't going to raise a weird kid together, and of all the ways to go off the rails, odd parental nicknames weren't so bad. At least he knew his own name and didn't think he was still Tony.

Tony rose to go back to the bedroom and get his jacket, but Steve stopped him with a hand on his arm, the other holding Ant on his hip. "You have eggs in your hair," he said, reaching up to pick at Tony's hair. Tony folded his cuffs, buttoning them easily, and headed back to the bedroom when Steve deemed him presentable. 

He found his jacket, found more eggs in his hair, and tucked his phone in his pocket. Back in the kitchen, he checked his coffee mug - empty - and reached for Steve's instead. They took their coffee the same way, and Steve's was still half full, so Tony lifted it and took a long pull, humming with pleasure. 

Ant made a happy baby sound, and Tony looked back up to admire their son and froze, coffee mug stilled halfway to his mouth. 

It was a perfect tableau: Steve leaned back against the kitchen counter, Ant tucked in the crook of his arm. Ant grinned up at Steve while he wiped something away from the corner of his mouth with the edge of his own sleeve. It was heart-stoppingly domestic. Tony's DNA sung out to Anthony, this child he'd half raised in his own mind and now got to have and hold and love. And here was Steve, loving him too.

And -

Where on Earth had that come from? Tony blinked at him, even as Steve looked up and met his eyes, confusion twisting his brow. But… yes, that fluttery pounding in Tony's chest, he'd felt that  before, knew what that meant. It wasn't just love for Anthony that was filling him up from head to toe, there was something new too, something different. 

He'd been grateful from the start, of course, so grateful, for everything Steve had done, caring for him as a child then helping him with Anthony. But this wasn't about gratitude or obligation, this was about the affection born from sharing the couch in the evening and balancing a routine. This was trust built out of sharing a bed each night and balancing responsibilities. This was the kind of love that came one brick at a time until suddenly you opened your eyes and realized you were a thousand feet up. 

And wow, the air was thin up here. 

Tony sucked in a sharp breath, wobbling to stop himself from pitching right over and dropping the coffee mug. He realized Steve had said something to him. "What?"

"Duck." Steve's concern twisted deeper.

Tony shook himself and looked around until he spotted the toy. He grabbed Duck off the back of the couch and tossed it to Steve who tucked it down against Ant's belly. Ant clutched it close and stuck his thumb in his mouth. 

Tony swallowed heavily, unable to taste the coffee anymore. Watching the man he loved love their son was so overwhelmingly beautiful, he was a little worried he was going to fling himself across the room and do something embarrassing.

"You okay?" Steve was still watching him carefully.

Was he? Tony thought it through. So Steve probably didn't love him back. He trusted him, yes, cared for him even, that he was sure about. But not this kind of love, not the kind of love that made him want to stamp his name on Steve's forehead so no one else could have him. But that was okay, really it was. Because they had this weird family dynamic going, and it was warm and homey and perfect and more than Tony had ever thought he'd get to have, especially after Natasha. If this was all the love Steve would ever be able to give him, that was enough. More than enough. "Yeah, fine," he said, shaking off Steve's concern with a smile. "Just - uh - just realized something. No big deal.”

Anthony hummed around his thumb and kicked his feet idly, while Tony gathered the last of his things and tucked them in his briefcase. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to crawl inside his family and wallow in this new, thrilling, wonderful love he had found and never crawl out. What if he walked out the door and it disappeared and he never caught the thread of it again?

He picked the paper up again and frowned at it, fiddling with the edge. “Have you seen the latest polls?”

“Tony,” Steve said, sounding exasperated. 

“What?”

“You are actually going to be late. Read that in the car.”

Tony rolled his eyes but tucked the paper under his arm. He circled the island to stand in front of Steve then leaned in to blow a raspberry on Anthony’s belly. Anthony squirmed in Steve’s arms, giggling sleepily, and Tony's heart skipped a beat when he heard Steve chuckle too. He wanted to be responsible for that chuckle from now on.

“Bye, Duckling. Be good.” Tony kissed Anthony’s forehead, letting his eyes fall shut and breathing in the soft, warm, baby-ness of him. “Bye, Steve. Be good.” Stomach fluttering, Tony leaned over and pressed a matching kiss to Steve's cheek, hiding the way he breathed him in at the same time with a smile and a wink.

Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too, and that was everything.

He shoved at Tony with one hand. “Get out of here. Go work hard so you can keep us in diapers.”

“Yes, sir!” Tony tore his eyes away from the two of them and pushed out the door before he lost his nerve and called in love-sick for the rest of forever. The car was waiting out front, and Tony slipped inside dropping his paper and briefcase on the seat beside him. 

It didn't go away, even out of sight of them; he still loved Steve down to his bones. 

Tony flicked an errant piece of scrambled egg off his pants, unable to suppress the smile that surely made him look even drunker than usual. Because he knew that when work was over, he was going to pack up, say goodnight, and go home to his family and the two loves of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find us on tumblr at sirsapling.tumblr.com and festiveferret.tumblr.com <3
> 
> We're taking prompts for Little Bits! If there's a moment from Trouble, or before or after, that you'd like to see, let us know. We won't be able to write all of them, and we can't do anything that messes with the plans we have for the future of this family, but we'll do our best to fill what we can. To submit a Papa Don't Preach prompt, please send an ask to one of our tumblrs (either is fine) instead of asking in the comments. Thanks!


End file.
